She settles in and presses play on her tablet, and I send a silent thank you upward before pulling my face mask over my eyes.
Finally, a nap.
The nearly three hours in the air feel like minutes. I wake to the flight attendant gently asking me to put my seat upright, and for a moment I’m completely disoriented. It barely feels like I closed my eyes at all, which tells me everything I need to know about how exhausted I actually am.
As we land, my phone lights up with texts and emails firing in rapid succession. Of course, there are several from Timantha. But the last one that comes through knocks the air right out of my chest.
Eslin:Good news and bad news. Good news, I’m a finalist for the team therapist job with the Atlanta Strikers! Bad news? I’ve got some ugly flu bug thing and I don’t think I’m going to make it to the conference.
My heart sinks.
What am I supposed to do now?
I’ve been looking forward to this for months. Not just the fun and foolishness planned around our favorite authors, but the chance to unplug, to let our hair down. I was ready to cross that border, turn my phone off, and pretend MatchSense didn’t exist.
This was mine and Eslin’s time to catch up and have fun like we did when we were back in college.
I can’t possibly go by myself…can I?
I fire off a panicked text.
Me:I cannot believe you would have the nerve to get sick right now! You promised me fun, foolishness, and fuckery! Are you sure you can’t make it?
Eslin:I don’t think I can, babe. I feel like ass. I’m so sorry!
I groan and let my head fall back against the seat.
I need this time away. I need a few days to escape. And, most importantly, I need to meet the actors who play my favorite book boyfriends in their movie adaptations. This is self-care.
I watch a small group of older women shuffle down the aisle, buzzing like they’re headed for the time of their lives. Even Meemaw is about to live her best life.
If she can do it, so can I.
At this point, I truly don’t think this trip can get any worse. So right then and there, I make the decision.
I’m driving to Canada, with or without Eslin.
I’ve Got Your Ride, Big Boy
Max
“Istill can’t believe you’re leaving me, Max!” Timantha screeches into the phone.
“Tim, we have been over this. You and your girls have been gallivanting across the globe in private jets, drinking champagne out of designer shoes. Meanwhile, I’ve been at the office keeping your company afloat. It’s my turn.”
“They weren’t designer shoes,” she mutters under her breath. “Who’s gonna get bulgogi with me on Wednesdays?”
“Your husband, Tim. That’s who.”
She gasps. “Will? Please. You know he’s only good for back rubs and brunch. Not lunch-lunch.”
“Yeah, well, he’s about to become your Wednesday bulgogi buddy so I can enjoy this time off. And for the love of God, do not do anything nasty on my desk while I’m gone.”
“Oh hush. You know Will’s too big to fit on your desk.”
“Ick. TMI.”
She snorts. “Oh honey, you know I’d never defile your desk like that.”
